


Towards The Sky

by allofuswithwings



Series: Arrangements [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feels, Fluff, M/M, Marking, Mild S&M, PWP, Possessive Behaviour, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac and Stiles have a casual arrangement that meets their needs.  However, it’s actually a lot more complicated than Stiles wants to admit.</p><p>  <i>God, it was so easy for Isaac to strip away any dignity he had, and turn him into a grovelling mess.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Towards The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely prompted by lyrics from 'Body of Christ' by Mariachi El Bronx. Basically just a sex scene though. With feels. And fluff. Because that’s how I roll.

~*~

 

_Our bodies don't speak_

_They cry out like dogs_

_They stretch towards the sky_

_And scratch at the walls_

_Moments like these, are stronger than love_

_Ceilings and stars, look down from above_

 

~*~

 

 

Isaac’s mouth was hot and wet as it mapped a path up the side of Stiles’ neck, the heat of the breaths as it went making Stiles shiver. Strong hands pinned his wrists to the bed as he squirmed under the weight of the body above him, even there was little his hands could do to help him escape.

 

Of course, that was assuming he wanted to. Which, no, he certainly didn’t.

 

In the several months since this had started – _whatever_ this was – there was never a time when he’d wanted to stop. It was a terrible idea of course, he knew that. Getting involved with a werewolf, let alone an emotionally and psychologically damaged one, was probably one of the worst ideas he’d ever had. In the top three at least. And yet, he did it anyway.

 

Because he liked this. He liked _doing_ this, and doing it with a wolf. Hell, that was a big part of it – he liked the danger of it all. Something in his brain had always enjoyed that sort of reckless stupidity.

 

But also he’d come to realise, quite belatedly, he liked doing it with Isaac.

 

Stiles groaned and buried his face in the pillow as Isaac sucked steadily at a spot behind his ear, hips grinding their bodies down into the bed. There’d be a mark there later, Stiles was sure of it. And probably so was Isaac – it was kinda the point. He’d made a habit of these sorts of gestures – a nip here, a claw puncture there, not to mention the barrage of hickeys and determined painting of his body with Isaac’s tongue. It was territorial display, the wolf in him asserting itself.

 

And Stiles should hate it. He knew he should. He’d always hated when guys treated their girlfriends like property, when they were aggressively possessive of them. This was really no different. He did complain about the marks to Isaac on a regular basis, especially those that weren’t easily covered by clothing, and berated him for giving in to his doggy instincts. And yet, something dark and primal in him told him that no, he didn’t hate when Isaac did those things. In fact, it was mostly likely just the opposite.

 

“I thought you said you don’t like it when I give you hickeys,” Isaac growled in his ear.

 

It was apparent the wolf hadn’t been fooled by his past protests either. Still, denial was an easier crutch.

 

“I-I don’t,” Stiles breathed. “They’re a bitch to explain.”

 

Isaac mouthed at his jawline, chuckling.

 

“I can hear your heartbeat and smell the state of your body, in case you’ve forgotten,” he informed him.

 

“So?” Stiles tried for nonchalant. “How do you know it’s not just because you’re humping me against the bed? Because you know I’m _definitely_ a fan of that.”

 

Isaac pressed his hips down again, drawing a cry from Stiles’ lips. They were only half-naked, but the friction of his jeans against his hard cock, coupled with Isaac’s infuriatingly wicked mouth, was enough to bring him to the edge of sanity.

 

“Oh, I know that,” Isaac murmured, drawing Stiles’ earlobe into his mouth. He released it with a gratuitous slurp. “But it’s the marks too. I can tell.”

 

Stiles wanted to argue, to start a rambling interrogation about _how_ exactly Isaac knew, when he had no solid proof of _anything_ – but then the wolf flipped him over and began a frenzied oral assault of Stiles’ chest, and all rational thought left his head.

 

Isaac was feral and uncompromising, a state not uncommon when they did this, and Stiles quickly lost track of whether he was using tongue, lips or teeth upon his skin, or in what order. It didn’t actually matter in the end, because Isaac’s mouth reached a nipple, sending a shot of white-hot want through Stiles’ belly and drawing a gasp from him. He clawed at Isaac’s shoulder and tugged roughly on his hair, his pelvis canting up of its own volition to buck against Isaac’s diaphragm. He heard Isaac growl at this, the hands framing his ribcage tightening their grip, but he knew it certainly wasn’t anger that drew the noise from him.

 

When he was done terrorising Stiles’ chest and belly with his mouth, Isaac dragged his lips back up to his throat to leave a series of marks from collarbone to ear. He worked Stiles’ cock through his jeans with one hand as he did so, until Stiles was left shaking and whimpering beneath him.

 

Isaac’s eyes were shot through with yellow when he brought his head up to look Stiles in the face.

 

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you hate the wolf in me.”

 

Isaac’s words were wet with desire, and edged with provocation from Stiles earlier denial. But Stiles also knew that deep down in there somewhere was Isaac’s doubt. So he didn’t hesitate.

 

“I want this, _I want this_. I want all of it. Anything, _everything_ ,” he rambled. “Whatever it is, I damn well want it. However you want to give it to me. I just want _you_ – I want the wolf.”

 

Isaac’s eyes flashed a little brighter, and then his mouth was on Stiles’, kisses desperate and suffocating. Stiles just let him, fisting a hand in his curls and rutting up against the maddening hardness of his cock. They broke apart to leave Stiles’ head spinning, lungs burning, but Isaac didn’t let up, just began tearing at Stiles’ jeans and shoving his own down.

 

Every time they undressed completely, Stiles still got a twinge of disbelief, despite it being weeks since he’d started sleeping with him. His brain just wasn’t quite done processing the fact that maybe he wasn’t entirely straight. But feeling the red-hot rush of arousal at the sight of Isaac’s bare, slick skin and hard cock, there was simply no denying it.

 

When Isaac was finished dispatching the remains of their clothes, he snatched the lube from the drawer and began liberally coating his fingers. Stiles watched him for a few moments with hooded eyes and slack mouth, the thought of where those fingers would soon be turning his mind to mush.

 

Then Isaac turned him face-down again with one arm, crawling atop him and sliding slick fingers between Stiles’ cheeks. Stiles let out a low moan, half-muffled as he buried his face in the pillow again, his fingers curling into it too beside his head. Isaac was breathing hard against the back of his neck, and his lips were wet with saliva as he dragged against Stiles’ skin.

 

Stiles’ arched his back as Isaac slipped a finger in, urgent in its penetration but not rough enough to ruin the pleasure. The rhythm Isaac began was dizzying, and it was sometime before Stiles realised the helpless noises that were now coming out of his mouth because of it.

 

God, it was so easy for Isaac to strip away any dignity he had, and turn him into a grovelling mess. Buy any real shame about it had dissipated weeks ago – the pleasure he received in return was worth it.

 

Isaac slipped in another finger, and it wasn’t long before Stiles was gasping and delirious, pushing his hips back to meet Isaac’s strokes. Isaac’s breathing was ragged in his ear, his cock insistent and wet with pre-come against the back of his thigh.

 

“I’ll give you my fingers,” Isaac grunted. “If that’s what you want.”

 

Stiles turned his head, a shaky grin stretching onto his lips.

 

“J-Just your fingers?” he managed.

 

Isaac shuddered out a laugh to match his smile.

 

“No,” he muttered. “My cock too.”

 

“Good. I would’ve been disappointed otherwise.”

 

Isaac captured his mouth in a messy kiss, deliberately pressing his fingers deeper at the same time. Stiles shuddered, groaning into Isaac’s mouth.

 

Isaac pulled away to look him in the eyes.

 

“Don’t wanna disappoint you, then.”

 

Isaac withdrew his finger and positioned his cock at Stiles’ entrance, first slicking it with the remaining lube from his hand.

 

Having had safe sex practices drilled into him from an early age, going bareback with Isaac had felt completely against instinct when they’d first started. But the truth was, Isaac’s healing meant he couldn’t retain disease to pass it on, and similarly couldn’t get hurt by anything Stiles could potentially give him. The fact that Stiles had been a virgin beforehand turned out to be a moot point, which didn’t need sharing.

 

It was clear Isaac was losing control of his desire when his first push into Stiles was a little too brutal, drawing a curse and provoking a jarring sensation in Stiles’ body. Stiles appreciated the apologies that were murmured into the back of his hair, and the way Isaac stilled to give him time to recover.

 

He let out a shaking breath.

 

“Okay, I’m okay.”

 

He opened his eyes again and slowed his breathing. Isaac’s hands came over his to entwine their fingers, and he began a slow, stuttering rock of his hips back and forth.

 

It took some time, but eventually the pleasure began to blot out the discomfort and Stiles exhaled a breath, leaning back into Isaac’s movements now. Isaac’s mouth was back at his throat, retracing the marks he’d left earlier, and Stiles tipped his head to allow him better access. Small noises of appreciation and pleasure escaped the wolf at the gesture, and Stiles wondered just how messed up it was that something so akin to the whines of a puppy turned him on so much. Probably really messed up.

 

Every now and then Isaac would crush their lips together again, his tongue in and out of Stiles’ mouth before he could really register it, and Stiles ended up trying to press his shoulder back and turn his head to chase the kisses. But Isaac wouldn’t let him, just curled his arms and body tighter around, pressing him into the mattress and shoving his face into the gap between Stiles’ head and shoulder.

 

Isaac was frequently like this in the throes of sex. He would envelope Stiles so completely with his body and virtually bathe his face with his tongue that it felt like Isaac was trying to smother him to death. Yet despite how suffocating it could be, something about the behaviour curled hot and satisfying in Stiles’ chest, and he never stopped it. It was yet another on the list of messed up things he enjoyed when it came to Isaac.

 

Isaac ceased his oral attack on Stiles’ face and neck to draw back and untangle one of his hands. He then pulled Stiles’ weight further back onto his knees and elbows, and shoved a hand under him, grabbing hold of his cock.

 

“ _Isaac_.”

 

They barely ever called each other by name during sex, but sometimes it just wasn’t voluntary. This appeared to be one of those times.

 

Isaac didn’t seem deterred; in fact, his fingers curled tighter over Stiles’ hand and he exhaled a whine against the nape of his neck. His hips then resumed their desperate rhythm, and Stiles allowed himself to fall hopelessly into it, the new angle and hand around his cock filling his head with nothing but white noise and violent need.

 

Before all this, Stiles’ ideas about sex had been a mishmash of information from porn and vague descriptions by Scott. The reality of it with Isaac had turned out to be entirely different. Everything they did was raw and messy and painful, and yet completely and utterly perfect. Stiles always wanted it, craved it – and somewhat surprisingly, he found himself wanting Isaac to feel the same way. He hadn’t thought how satisfying it would be to draw such wild sounds from Isaac, to have him red-cheeked and shaking by Stiles’ own hand. It was as much of a reward as the feel of Isaac inside him.

 

Isaac pushed them faster now, his movements becoming ragged and uneven, though his fist held its tight grip upon Stiles’ cock. And Stiles’ could feel the pressure now, building at break-neck speed in his pelvis, from the friction provided by Isaac’s fingers and the overwhelming fullness of the cock that pressed deep in his body. The sensation of being penetrated was something he could never properly describe – it was too much and not enough all at once, and Stiles was never really sure if he wanted Isaac to stop or just hold him down and fuck him until he was a hysterical mess. The latter had actually happened on more than one occasion, and even now, thinking of Isaac behaving so ruthlessly was enough to begin unravelling Stiles’ tenuous control.

 

Stiles arched his body back into each of Isaac’s thrusts, digging his knees and elbows into the mattress for leverage and listening to the way Isaac’s voice pitched higher with each successive stroke. He twisted his head to nuzzle his face against Isaac’s that had been pressed against the back of his jaw, and a tongue came out to lap haphazardly at his lips. He countered with a nip of his teeth, capturing Isaac’s bottom lip between them and biting down until he could taste blood. Isaac’s whole body shuddered at this, and the sound that came from him was nothing even remotely human.

 

The broken skin inside Isaac’s lip was already healed by the time Stiles swept his tongue over it, so he sucked the lip back into his mouth and repeated the gesture for good measure. Isaac trembled again, letting out a snarl this time, and Stiles wasn’t particularly surprised to find him half-wolfed-out when he opened his eyes. He felt claws prick into his hand a little, but was glad Isaac seemed at least in control enough not to dig them into his cock as well.

 

Stiles tipped his head again to engage him in a messy kiss, his tongue slipping back and forth over Isaac’s sharp teeth, paying particular attention to his fangs. It was no surprise that Isaac seemed to like this, opening his mouth wider to give Stiles better access and panting heavily. His hips were erratic now, barely holding a semblance of rhythm, and his strokes on Stiles’ cock weren’t much better. It didn’t matter though, because Stiles was losing all ability to focus, the combination of every sensation along with the noises Isaac was making, creating a fog in his head.

 

Then Isaac’s mouth was back at the spot behind his ear, licking and sucking with abandon, and Stiles could feel a warm line of saliva slip down his throat. He shuddered, not with revulsion but with arousal, the depravity of it all stroking that animalistic fire Isaac had started earlier with his wolfish proclivities. Isaac’s hips had built up to a jackhammer, and Stiles was too far gone to care that half the impact was him backing into it almost as violently.

 

He could hear Isaac whining, howling almost, and when Isaac’s thumb pressed near the head of his cock, Stiles was lost. He came with a shout, pleasure hitting him like a fist to the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs and crippling his body from the inside out. His hand flew down to press down on Isaac’s at his cock, and he painted their fingers, his belly and the bed with white ribbons of his release.

 

Isaac was huffing and trembling at his throat, just teetering on the edge of oblivion, clearly desperate for relief but perhaps just as desperate to cling to these moments as long as he could. Stiles knew why – he felt the same craving for connection in the mess of violence and danger that had become their lives. Any time you could revel in bringing another person so much bliss, you took it, because it might well never come again.

 

Stiles rode out the diminishing waves of his orgasm, and he arched his back to feel the full penetration of Isaac’s cock, sucking in a breath at the sensation. And then, just as he was twitching with the last of his aftershocks, Isaac fell, slamming his hips roughly forward. He made that noise in the back of his throat that always turned Stiles’ legs to jelly – a pained moan that was laced with something akin to astonishment. As much as Isaac could play the dominant animal, and delight in bringing Stiles to the brink of sanity with his teasing and rough treatment, it never sounded like victory when he came – only surrender.

 

And he was surrendering now, the hand that had been on Stiles’ cock instead in a vice-like grip over his hipbone to create leverage, cock burying as deep as it could go into the body beneath him. He shook and writhed against Stiles, and the breaths he exhaled into Stiles’ ear were short and gasping. Stiles turned his head to join their lips, and Isaac surged into the kiss to crush their mouths together, tongue nowhere to be seen.

 

Isaac’s movements slowed after a while, the tension draining from his body, and he slipped limp and heavy atop Stiles, who had fallen flat onto the mattress. The sheets were wet and sticky beneath Stiles’ belly, and despite it feeling a little gross, he didn’t much care. He had neither the energy nor the will to move from this position, not when Isaac was enveloping him again with arms, legs and body, his cock still pressed inside. The wolf was also trembling, his breathing a slow shudder out of his lungs, and his face came to nuzzle against Stiles’ jaw.

 

Stiles closed his eyes, letting his mind drift, as Isaac pressed slow, soft kisses along the top of his throat. They were such a contrast to the frantic, hungry licking of earlier, and he turned his face into the pillow to allow Isaac to trace a path along his hairline.

 

He let out a sigh when Isaac swept his lips up and down the vertebrae in his neck, the warmth of the breaths there provoking goosebumps all over his skin. Isaac’s fingers were still intertwined with his on one hand, and the other came up to tangle in his hair, carding through it.

 

It was times like these that Stiles experienced an overwhelming ache in his chest for something he couldn’t quite name.

 

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, Isaac stroking his hair and showering his skin with languorous kisses, but by the end of it Stiles was so loose with relaxation that he almost dozed off a couple of times. The only thing that stopped him was Isaac’s softened cock starting to slip from inside his body, and he hitched in a breath when it finally did, causing Isaac to cease his attentions.

 

Isaac rolled off him, albeit reluctantly, and when Stiles turned over he found him lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Stiles was now sullied both front and back, Isaac’s come starting to slip its way down between his thighs, and though he knew he should probably get cleaned up, a bigger part of him didn’t want to. Another unsettling item on his list, Stiles actually quite enjoyed the sensation of being so filthy from sex. Not to mention the fact that Isaac liked him that way too, which again, was probably a territorial wolf thing.

 

As Stiles settled onto his back too, Isaac slipped an arm under his waist, pulling him close again. Fingers came over to rest on his hip, tracing slow patterns from the protruding bone down into the crease of his thigh. The sensation sent waves of relaxation through Stiles’ body, and after several minutes he found his eyelids drooping of their own volition again.

 

There were things he wanted to say to Isaac right now, _should_ say, but in this drowsy state he didn’t even know where to start or if they’d come out right.

 

Stiles tried to force his mind to stay awake, to concentrate, but the languorous slide of Isaac’s fingers over his skin and the warmth of their bodies moulded together meant he was fighting a losing battle. The last thing he remembered before falling into a dreamless sleep was Isaac nosing along the shell of his ear and his lips pressing kisses at the back of Stiles’ jaw.

 

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first outing with the Teen Wolf fandom, so I’m still trying the characters on for size. Please forgive any inaccurate characterisations in this story – they will no doubt get better the more I write them.


End file.
